Weasleys' Finest Cures for Bad Days
by shapealunarworld
Summary: A collection of snapshots (moments) whenever a Weasley has a bad day, and what another Weasley does to help. Primarily Fred, George, and Percy.
1. A Good Afternoon's Nap

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine! I do not own/share any rights with J.K. Rowling. **

**Author's note: So this is a series of HP ****_snapshots_****, not drabbles. If you are wondering, the difference between the two is that snapshots are moments captured, and drabbles are little short works of fiction exactly one hundred words in length, not including the title. Well, I think I have read stuff labeled "drabbles" but they weren't a hundred words in length. I just wanna go safe here...anyways, the grammar in the following dialogue below is not perfect because these are four year old twins speaking here. Thus, when you review (and I encourage you to do so) this collection of snapshots, please don't point out the grammar/spelling issues.**

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><p>The afternoon sun lazily dripped through the window, like melted butter, into Fred and George's room. The four year old twins lay in their bed, yawning.<p>

"Why do we get sent to our room so much?" Fred wondered. "I can't...help it...no matter how much I try." Fred tried to stifle his tears. No. He couldn't let them fall, not even in front of George. This broke the rules of being a big boy. Big boys did not shed tears of sadness, and Fred and George were officially deemed big boys by Mummy and Daddy.

"We didn't get sent to our room 'cause we got in trouble," George reminded Fred. "We gotta take our naps," George added brightly. He and Fred loved naps.

"But Mummy sounded mad at us when she said that we hadta take our naps. What did we do?" Fred asked.

"I noticed that Mummy might not have been really mad at us. She musta been tired. Taking care of baby Ginny and Ron and runnin' all over the Burrow," George pointed out. "People sound mad and look mad sometimes, but they're not mad at us, y'know, Fred?" George was the quieter and more observant of the two.

"We wasn't doin' nothing, Mummy got no right to get her being tired all on us," Fred objected.

"It's not her fault, Freddie. Tell ya what. Today's been rough on us, or we got up on the wrong side of the bed-"

"How do you get up on the wrong side of the bed?"

"It's this saying I picked up somewhere. I think it was from Charlie or Bill. I think it means today isn't one of our best days. So yes, we got up on the wrong side of the bed-I think everybody did. And we're sleepy," George explained. "Maybe we're sleepy is all."

The tears were now trickling down Fred's rosy cheeks, dozens of them. Fred's button nose, lips, and cheeks became red. Fred usually cried whenever he had a bad day.

"I'm not crying, I'm just allergic to the dust in the room-"

"There is no dust in our room. If you was allergic to the dust, I'd be too," George pointed out. "'Sokay, Freddie, I'm here." A pair of dry lips pressed against Fred's cheek, kissing a tear skating down a crooked path of freckles. Arms of eternal peace wrapped around Fred in such a way that George was spooning Fred, and let Fred wipe his nose on George's sleeve.

"Thanks, Georgie."

"Y'welcome, Freddie."


	2. Dumped

**Author's note: This snapshot takes place after DH, but FRED HAS SURVIVED! FREEEEEEEEEEED! There also recognition-just recognition-of Guna and Fremione. And, uh, this might be OOC. But you'll soon find out why. **

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><p>Percy walked upstairs, trying to straighten his back and his face, to look professional-but one could tell the glimmer in his eyes that was so very common whenever he got an owl. Penelope Clearwater, of course. That was one of the few people Percy had a soft spot for. One of the few people Percy could relax with and feel comfortable shedding his stiff, formal tone. <em>Maybe,<em> he thought, _this letter would surely brighten up my day. I have had a most taxing day at the Ministry. _

When he got to his room, though, and opened the letter, he immediately turned pale.

"Hey Percy? Can we come in?" A muffled voice sounded from the door. It was Fred and George; if it were anyone else, he/she wouldn't have said _we_. Before Percy could say anything, in popped the mischievous twins. One had a lopsided grin-that's Fred-and the other one had one ear-that was George.

"Oh, Perce!" Fred gasped. Percy was sprawled on the floor, tears racing down to his ears, sobbing uncontrollably. In no time, the twins were at Percy's side, carrying him to his bed.

"What's wrong?" inquired George. "You're not acting like your bookish-"

"-nerdy-"

"-prim-"

"-and proper self," Fred finished.

"But look 'ere, Freddie," George said. He pointed to Percy's right hand, which was clutching a crumpled letter. George gently took it out and unfolded the letter.

"Who do you think Penny is?" George asked.

"Reckon it's none other than-"

"-Penelope Clearwater," the two said in unison.

"Don't you dare invade my private space! Affairs of the heart are to be kept strictly confidential. Contemplating relationships are between two people only," Percy scolded, attempting to regain composure, sitting up on the bed. "What do _you_ know of relationships?"

"I have Hermione Granger," Fred answered.

"And I've Luna Lovegood," George added.

Epic facepalm. Percy'd forgotten all about that. He had a habit of doing before thinking, especially letting the words spill out of his mouth before they were given much thought. Anyways, screw that for now!

"Penelope broke up with you, didn't she?" Fred said quietly. It was something about how they'd been drifting apart and she'd taken interest in other things after the War. _Stupid War, _thought Percy.

"She did," Percy agreed.

"But it's so unlike you to be in this state!" George pointed out. "Or have you just had a rough day?" Percy nodded.

"Need a hug?" Percy found himself nodding at this one. He officially deemed himself to be Un-huggable. Hugging was for babies, he'd said once.

Or maybe it wasn't, because then Percy felt two sets of warm, lanky but welcoming arms wrap around his thin frame and two heads each nestling themselves in his shoulders.

And a fresh, steaming cup of hot peppermint chocolate in his hands. The twins must have conjured it, because he'd told them once, when Percy was ten, that hot peppermint chocolate was his favorite.

"Any time you have days like this, we'll be here," Fred assured Percy.


End file.
